Thistle & Weeds
by writerworld123
Summary: Gold is back from Neverland : weak, sick and without magic...But Belle of course is waiting for him and has big suprise : Bae is with her, alive. Three-shot- Tumblr Prompt -
1. Chapter 1

The shop wreaked of dust, residue, and above all things- no magic. An element he no longer sported himself nor fancied, and would no longer miss. Perhaps this was a lie, but, he didn't mind telling himself it enough till he believed it.

Despite the convenience it provided him in his longing years of solitude. He eased onto the small day-bed in his office, weak in his hobbling to the bullying of exhaustion from what was to be his heroic journey of salvation, and disembarking from his inevitably damned fate.

But no journey, no matter the endurance or labor, was enough or the very least capable of bringing his only son back. Indeed he did not let his flesh and blood pass in vein.

What was left of him- Gold's grandson- was revived from Neverland; unscathed and notably unfazed by all the massacre and bloodshed he witnessed from his family's rescuing.

He was an incredibly loved boy, and was even less credible was the blood streaming through his veins bred from a cowardly man who was even further along the verge of death, and welcoming it at that.

Feeling as though all the gravity centering the universe was climbing on his shoulders, he mustered enough strength to retreat the little chipped trinket on his work table.

He grimly smiled, a tear slithering down his cheek. He declined the Charming's offer to drive him to the library, very least escorts him to his home.

He detected their softening to him since his prevail to rescue the boy. But, he couldn't fathom reviving a life with a family, after losing the most precious form of blood he had fought and revolved his entire life objective in seeking.

He'd clench his heart to ash in his own bare palm. He'd let musky pirate savage his jugular with that blasted hook. His relief would not come at such a task, granted all those who wished to dispose him of this world and the last.

He would not disappoint, but, there was one last quest he must conger before all that.

He needed to see Belle for what would be his second – and this round, guaranteed- farewell.

* * *

"Where exactly do you store all these words in your head—- you gotta forget some of it."

"Hmm" Belle hummed, breezing in to present a tray of biscuits and hot tea.

"The ones most important I remember" Belle proposes in a matter-of-fact tone, "You must mean the ones you actually like."Her roommate of these lagging weeks concluded.

She tilted her head as her guest plummeted himself down before the coffee table, as though this were his own home. Belle enjoyed this observation, given who he was, it was though Rumplestiltskin would be able to live on in her presence.

Though she couldn't deny, Baelfire was a bosom character to have just as himself- even without her true love's blood coursing through his veins.

"Whatever do you mean?" Belle wondered aloud, nesting herself inside the knitted quilt granny gifted her with shortly after Rumplestiltskin departure… a pity present Belle silently quipped with herself; though it was quite cozy, almost as though another human's warmth was engulfing her.

On that train of thought, she rode into realization that she had ever felt so pathetic in her lifetime.

"Surely you don't remember everything you read, let alone like it." Baelfire insisted, dunking his biscuit in to marinate in his tea.

"I like the activity of reading itself… I like being lost for a little awhile, and having all the power to return when I wish." Baelfire's was looking at her now, and not just looking in the casualty of etiquette for eye-contact, he was gazing at her, in a gaze all too familiar Belle.

Despite the dim green of his eyes and plush features, somehow, in that hallow stare- peering into Belle as though she were translucent, she saw a spitting image of Rumplestiltskin before her.

She was near fright when Baelfire decided it was his cue to speak. "That's a… comforting way to look at it" He murmured, suddenly appearing buried in his thoughts. Belle remained still, afraid of not knowing what she'd do if she let herself breathe.

She had tamed her emotions far more superb than she credited herself, perhaps it was her internal shock she was managing them on little to no strength that kept her from dwelling on it.

In fear that in silently rewarding herself, she'd jinx it and crack. And that crack wouldn't split her long enough before she vitally collapsed as whole.

She missed Rumplestiltskin like a revolving earth would miss the sunlight. It was essential, crucial, need, an absolute must.

Everything spirals into chaos, till all is frosted over, then there's that hideous song of silence—- whispering the truth till Belle was screaming it in unison.

That silence simply rebounds it in an echo for her to never be free of her long and mourning for Rumplestiltskin.

"Thank-you for the biscuits and for… everything." Baelfire ignites, knocking Belle's dark thoughts to a rest; only a rest though, with the potential not a breath away from awaking once more.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Gold, you should be resting" With Rumpelstiltskin perfected timing and dry humored fate, Whale happens to be lingering about outside the library.

_Doing gods know whatever annoying imbeciles like him do,_ Rumpelstiltskin mentally snarled, and wished his hatred for this stingy lab rat could fuel his strength to life, and have him taste the savory flavor of his boot before he passed.

He thought of Belle though, and what Belle would wish of him. But then, suicide was not on her bucket list for their future either.

"Mr. Gold, are you alri-"The golden head of Rumple's cane fired between Whale's legs—- Rumple supposed had enough strength for that.

The library swallows Rumple in blistering cold air, far more chilly than the outside. The lights aren't on, only the shallow gray light of a storm brewing through the window panes.

Belle's apartment is above, and he can't ignore himself to the concern as to whether or not she's been having warmth for her toes (that were notably already chilly), running water for her skin, and sturdy lighting for those graveyard hours she spent indulged in a novel.

He didn't wish to wrinkle his forehead in dismay as to her well-being; it would drag him into the depths of his heart, where she held it, and make him reconcile his decision.

He approached the stairwell, peering up at the top where her shabby little door was. If there was a stairwell to heaven, he imagined It would be somewhere were Belle was waiting him at the top- with Bae aside of her, hand in hand.

But, as long as he stood at the end of these rustic stairs—- he was just a failure of a father, loss of a lover, and coward of a man.

Every stair he climbed equated to climbing an entire flight of them to his weakling muscles.

His hand loss grip by the fifth stair, his cane abandon him as well his balance, and he concluded this was another quip of the God's—- he went along with it, and let himself crumble down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

"The hell was that?!" Belle shrieked, leaping from the threaded sofa like a troll crept up from beneath it.

Baelfire's surge to protect this woman drove him to steer her behind him by the elbow, tipping the coffee table and all the trinkets above it with it.

"You heard that didn't you?!" Belle whispered ghostly and Baelfire contained his small guardian behind him. "Yeah, I did, stay here… I'll check it ou-"

"No!" Belle gasped, clinging to his sleeve, her blue eyes melting into agony and wide in terror. "I'll be fine, I promi-"

"I won't let you go out there alone" Belle trembled; she couldn't bare the water that stood in her eyes now.

But, loosing Rumpelstiltskin had gaped at her heart, and has been taking its sweetly gradual time in feasting upon it ever since.

She couldn't lose this man- not only for him being the last sacred memento she may ever possess of her true love again, but, she couldn't stand to think if he died—- it would be the culmination of her releasing another person she deeply cared for from her own hands.

"If you go, I go… if you sincerely believe you'll be fine, why should I be any less?" Baelfire's features softened, a strangled grunt of a noise came once more from outside, and Bae clutched Belle's hand before leading them to the door.

Bae's hand was damp around the copper knob, he flickered his stare back to a gulping Belle before starring back- the grunt rising once more - and twisting the knob gingerly to avoid any indication the knob was becoming undone.

He eased the door open, flinching at the inevitable wailing of the old door hinges. Clenching their hands together white, they eased out from the safe little haven of an apartment, fathoming all the horror of scenarios within their mind.

But, they saw nothing and no one,"There's… no one out here" Baelfire whispered to her, but, his relief came far too brisk for Belle's liking.

She'd witnessed too many terrors and wars to know that silence meant absolutely nothing, if anything, the pause before the great climax of tragedy.

"Let's keep searchi—

The grunt bellowed from below and Belle tugged Baelfire's wrist, Baelfire accepted that as "I-told-you-so" gesture.

Belle began to venture ahead, but, now it was Baelfire's turn to tug. "Wait, you can't just prance on down there, gods know what monster or magical thing may be down ther-

"It sounds like a helpless creature" Belle piped, and Baelfire's eyes rolled back.

"That may be what it _sounds_ like, but, you gotta know what magic is capable of- especially when put into the wrong hands." Baelfire was not so courageous in whispering now, and Belle huffed before circling around behind once more, exchanging his left hand for his right.

"Open the apartment door more, I'll go down a bit to see what's there… if anything happens you promise you go straight back to the apartment and call Granny."

Belle huffed once more and Baelfire shot back another spitting image of Rumple.

"I… promise" she gulped and Baelfire nodded before turning away to take one ginger step to another into the greatest horrors a person may know: the unknown.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin was fed up with this little game fate was tugging his strings with. He couldn't have been out for more than a mere minute. His eyes fluttered to a gods awful headache, and twinge of fire in his already impaired ankle he twisted and fell upon. Be damned when he had presumed he was yielding to redemption.

He did nothing but grunt, and though he wished to fester silently in his fresh wounds, it was thought something was conducting him to cry for help.

As though his body was orchestrating the call like a natural reaction, he kept wailing and mewling as he was far too frail to yelp or the very least weep aloud.

At last, his burden of a body reclined into a weightless state, robbing him of feeling the own possession of his body. His lids were hooded, and he was serene to this translucent existence.

"….. P-papa?" Rumple's lids were apprehensive in their gentle raise.

Before him was his long lost son before him… and none of the less… his angelic Belle- hand in hand.

He was assured he was now in fact passed, and indeed in sanctuary. His death was quite hasty, and fate must've taken pity among him and unshackled his tortured soul from his decaying flesh.

Belle and Baelfire were in sheer pleasure to see him, and as though they'd been expecting him but no quite this soon.

He had never been in such gratitude to death; death had gifted him all he'd ever wanted. Who would've thought the last fate he'd ever wish for would be the one to bestow him with all the riches his magic could never tag a price upon?

There was one teeny matter he was waiting to be restored from.

He couldn't gather himself from the floor- were the god's going to let him loose from his mortal weight? Or was this hell… was he to be damned to lye among this floor, and simply _look_ upon his loves from above, but, never able to reach them?

Of course the underworld would be his sentence for the after-life… what gave him the righteous idea that after all the spilled tears, shed blood, and destroyed lives bestowed with his wicked craft a flick of a wrist.

Why would his soul be spared and granted mercy to sentence him to wherever beautiful souls- like Belle and Bae- were destined to rest in?

"Quick, get his head, I'll do his feet" Baelfire's voice seemed distant, as though he were speaking beneath water. Belle hurried along where Rumpelstiltskin lied, and it dawned on him.

In that very first touch, he knew he was neither in heaven nor hell, but, his soul was still harboring in his weakling being.

"B-Baelfire?" he droned, breathless and wincing as bullets of sweat dressed his hairline. "You're… I-I… Baelfire!" his ribs protested the sob rooting inside his lungs.

He gasped on a cry, a quivering hand stretched beyond him to run his fingertips to assure he wasn't under another trick of his mind.

Belle's chilly fingertips ran along his scalp, and with one hand cupping Bae's cheek, his other clutched Belle's.

Guilt knocked him upside the head in an instant- how could he convince himself taking Belle's only companion away was necessary?

How could he drown out the one thing he had left in the earth, and being her, she was quite enough. Selfish indeed, but, he was too indulged in feeling as though he may finally exhale in what seemed to be too long of a time to kick himself now.

Both of his loves cradled him up the stairs, in unison, and into a sanctuary finer than all the heavens above. Anywhere they were, was where heaven must be.

Belle's old book scent and Balefire's watery voice had him at last in a divine balance, aligning all the elements of the people he craved.

And whom he needed most welcoming him, wanting him, and above all things: here to stay for him.

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